


Kiss the Bride, Zura?

by usermechanics



Category: Love Live! School Idol Festival (Video Game), Love Live! School Idol Project, Love Live! Sunshine!!
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:31:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usermechanics/pseuds/usermechanics
Summary: Dia and Hanamaru go on their honeymoon.





	Kiss the Bride, Zura?

**Author's Note:**

> Truth be told, I wasn't thinking of writing another Diamaru so soon after Employee Training. Yet again, it's been like seven months, and I've gotten a lot of requests for Diamaru. People have wondered why I didn't write Diamaru for some fics, other people have just asked for more nsfw Diamaru, and someone even requested a Diamaru wedding night prompt.
> 
> To that anon, here you go: it's free of charge, too.

“It’s so pretty, zura!”

As much as Dia didn’t want Mari spending so much on everything, she couldn’t help but mention how nice their hotel room was. Some free-of-charge local five-star Awashima hotel was but a pipe dream to almost anyone, but Mari insisted that it was free of charge. And the room was befitting of something Mari would have chosen: Western-inspired, a large king bed sat in the middle of the room after a small hallway, the one which they resided in the moment they stepped in. A door was left ajar to their left, and with a peek in Dia knew that it was the bathroom. Anything for her best friend’s honeymoon, she said.  


In the case that she needed to be reminded of that, Hanamaru rubbed up against Dia, the white skirt of her dress pooling out far beyond what would have been reasonable in any other setting. Once more, it was paid off completely by Mari, from veil to heels. Dia remembered the calls that Ruby received a few hours ago, about how Hanamaru needed help figuring out what everything on her dress was for, and Dia wouldn’t have been surprised if even You was stumped by the witchcraft necessary to keep that dress on.

That didn’t matter anymore; the festivities were winding down (thankfully, Dia still believed that Mari had a bit too much to drink), and what was left was a card Ruby made for them, and their room, one which Hanamaru marked as their own by tossing aside her veil and running towards the large bed that stood in front of them.

But not before giving Dia the card so that she could look at it, see all the work that her little sister put into her surprise for her. On the front was an image of the moment Dia proposed to Hanamaru, complete with Ruby’s drawings on top of it: a few faces screaming in joy. Underneath the photo, a “Ganbaruby!”

Dia opened the card.

_ Hanamaru-chan and Onee-chan, _

_ I’m so happy for both of you. Hanamaru-chan, welcome to the family! Onee-chan, please give her a warm welcome during your honeymoon. I can’t wait for you two to come back! _

_ Ganbaruby! _

There wasn’t a lot written, but there wasn’t a lot of room for writing: most of the card was occupied with images of the newlyweds at different points in their life, ranging from elaborate balls that Mari set up, to quiet nights on the hilltop, to different Aqours and Azalea get-togethers. Pictures taken from every member of Aqours was in there, of different qualities, but what mattered most was how they accurately chronicled their lives together from the day Hanamaru shyly asked if Dia wanted to go out with her to now, where they were happily married.

“Dia-chan!”

Hanamaru’s calling pulled Dia from her reverie. Tonight was not a night to celebrate Ruby’s arts and crafts; it was a night to celebrate what those arts and crafts were celebrating: holy sapphic matrimony. Kicking off her shoes, Dia ran towards the bed, wondering what her wife needed.

“What is it, Hanamaru-san?”

Hanamaru twiddled her fingers, shyly looking away for a moment. “Well, Mari told me something about what happens after the wedding. Or, at least, what she did with Kanan after their wedding…”

Dia gulped, having heard the multitude of stories of what their honeymoon was like. It would have been a surprise if anyone else could have gone through what they went through and were still able to manage walking the day after. She heard of the plethora of toys that Mari brought, and the countless hours that they spent in bed, just touching each other. But that was Mari and Kanan, two women who were able to manage some stunt like that; the furthest that Dia went with Hanamaru was sleeping with her while wearing underwear.

“And I’ve been thinking about that since she told me.”

That would have explained her behavior during the reception, where she was acting unusually touchy towards her, to the point of trying to undo some of her shirt buttons (only the top one, fortunately, was taken off during the wedding), and how handsy she was about her thighs during the limousine ride to the hotel.

“Hanamaru-san, you don’t mean…”

“Mhm,” Hanamaru interrupted, standing from the bed. Not only was she ready for it, but she was ready to make sure Dia was ready, with each step forward from her earning a step back from Dia. What made the ordeal worse was how Hanamaru was emphasizing herself, pushing her chest out so that the once-negligible cleavage window seemed larger, with her breasts about ready to spill from out of her dress. Dia was shocked at how quickly she was able to go from innocent to lewd, almost taking her by surprise.

“And I’ve been thinking about the day where we’d do this, zura…”

“This is shameless!”

“Dia-chan, we’re married, and only I’ll see you. Don’t you want to kiss the bride, zura?”

It was no use at this point; Hanamaru had pinned her against a wall, and she took one final step forward. Her breasts squished against Dia’s chest, and her gaze was pointed directly at hers, with her lips dangerously close to her own. She was ready to steal a kiss from her, and she was seeing that, in spite of how shameless it was, that Dia was growing more and more acquainted with how she was acting, with the devious glances towards her curvaceous form.

“I know how you’ve been staring at me this whole night, Dia-chan. Don’t you want to make your dreams come true, zura?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Come on, Dia-chan; you can’t play this game forever, zura~”

Dia shivered as she felt Hanamaru’s whispers on her lips. With the warm embrace of her plush melting away the final bits of reserve that Dia could muster, she needed just a few moments to process it all: she wasn’t used to how forward she was about this when most of the time she was apprehensive being in lingerie near her even for sleeping. It was as if marriage was the one thing holding her back, and with it gone, she was a torrent of lust ready to drown her.

Or at the very least, Hanamaru was ready to smother her like how her breasts smothered her forearm.

And Hanamaru’s words were true: there was barely anything that she could do in her compromised position, and even if she was free to move wherever, there wasn’t anywhere she could go that Hanamaru wouldn’t be able to follow her to: all there were left were the lobby, the gift shop, the restaurant, the bathroom…

Dia’s eyes lit up. She could pass a few seconds and collect her thoughts in there; the best case scenario was that she could avoid the honeymoon-zilla that Hanamaru was slowly devolving into.

“Hanamaru-san, I should freshen up before we do this. Excuse me for a moment.”

Hanamaru pulled away, and Dia dashed to the bathroom. She locked it without a second thought, making sure that Hanamaru couldn’t shift her desired playing field from bedroom to bathtub.

As she expected from Mari booking a honeymoon spot, the bathroom was as occidental as the rest of the hotel. The “bathtub” was more or less a showerhead with a small stall separated by what looked like a bathtub, and the rest of the room was dedicated to a porcelain chair--what Dia could only assume to be the toilet--and a sink. Dia sat down on the toilet, her huffing slowing to regular breathing. It was like she ran a marathon while processing what was going through Hanamaru’s mind. Could it have been stories of Kanan and Mari’s honeymoon, which ended up with a honeymoon which only a licentious mind like Mari’s and a body that could go on forever like Kanan’s could possibly go through?

“Dia-chan? What about your promise? I’ve waited long enough, haven’t I?”

Dia’s reverie was interrupted by the sound of rasping against the door and Hanamaru’s voice. She choked down a swallow, knowing that she, too, was right about that: since her subtle grinds and presses against her throughout the reception was Hanamaru waiting.

“I’ll be out in a second, Hanamaru-san.”

And, after a short pause, she got a reply.

“Okay, Dia-chan!”

Dia’s eyes widened; she expected Hanamaru to keep whining about how special the honeymoon was supposed to be. She didn’t expect for her to give such a cheerful reply.

The sound of rustling fabric was barely audible past the door, but after it, she could hear Hanamaru humming gleefully. She sounded innocent; the fabric rustling was probably just her turning (Dia silently thanked Mari for recommending that she wear a tuxedo to her wedding), and the humming was just her going back to the bed and enjoying herself, waiting for her to come out.

Dia was in the clear. She didn’t have to worry about Hanamaru trying to get into her panties anymore; if she did, Dia knew that the last strands of dignity left wouldn’t be enough to keep her from doing whatever she wanted to her wife. With a flush of the toilet, Dia stood up and walked out of the bathroom, letting out a sigh of relief.

Dia froze as she felt something large and silky against her foot. Giving it a few kicks, she let the garment tangle around her toes, trying to figure out exactly what it was. looking down at it, she froze once more. There was only one thing that could have been that large, silky, and translucently white.

Hanamaru’s dress.

“Dia-chan…”

Dia frantically looked back up and at Hanamaru, laying on the bed. Hours of waiting for the moment where Dia would give into her passion were reflected in the pose she held. Her hips were pointed directly at her, with her legs just spread enough to give a glimpse of her panties. Even from the distance, Dia could see the panties’ transparency and how they wetly clung to Hanamaru’s sodden folds. Her hands dug into her inner thighs, with her pinkies grazing at her garters, all pressing into her plush and letting it meld between her fingers. And between those legs, an innocent expression, bar the intense pink filling her face, was on Hanamaru’s face.

Behind that innocent expression, Hanamaru knew that this sight, the sight of her so vulnerable and exposed, would have been enough for most people to crack, even someone as typically stuck-up as Dia; but it was their wedding night, their honeymoon, a night which she waited months for, and she wanted her to crack, to take her through those many stories she heard about her other friends’ honeymoons. And for that, she spoke as innocently as she could possibly muster while pointing her scantily-clad crotch at her wife:

“Kiss the bride, zura?”

Dia was in the bed before she knew it, her hands pinning Hanamaru’s shoulders against the mattress. Her suit coat and vest were on the floor, bunched up besides her dress, and the issue of unbuttoning her shirt was eased by Hanamaru tearing at it in a show of strength usually unseen. Hips pressed into hers, the vulnerability of Hanamaru’s previous pose was exploited, leaving her to take on the passionate fury which clouded her lover’s mind.

There was not a spot on Hanamaru’s lips which Dia didn’t take for herself, onslaughted by a chain of soft kisses. Her murmurs fueled the passionate frenzy as each whimper tickled Dia’s lips, hungrily taking in more of her with each passing second. Her hips tried to grind against her with barely any avail; she was pinned like the prey she made herself out to be, and in spite of being heavier-set, there was nothing she could do as Dia pinned her.

“Dia-chan, I was…”

Teasing or not, Hanamaru was interrupted in full by the entirety of Dia’s lips smashing against her own. Dia heeded her request, and after tantalizing and staining her palate with Hanamaru’s earthy flavor, she did as she was told, and kissed her bride.

Hanamaru mumbled as Dia’s tongue slid into her mouth, tangling with it in wanton fury. In return, she tried to retaliate, desperate to have at least a fighting chance against her, with her biggest success being pitiful attempts to lap at her tongue. There was no denying it anymore: Dia was in charge, and she was going to lead them through their honeymoon; all Hanamaru could do was yield to her wife’s desires.

And the first thing that was yielded was Hanamaru’s bra, its contents heftily massaged by Dia’s demanding fingers. Hanamaru whined as Dia’s wrists circulated, her hips slowly rolling in ever-mounting desperation; she wanted Dia to peel that garment off of her already, and to prove her point she mirrored what she wanted by wrapping her arms around her and unclasping Dia’s bra.

As a gasp filled the space between their lips, Maru’s murmurs ceased for a second, only to feel hands clawing at her bra, ready to reciprocate in the most hasty of ways. And when the thin wire support holding her bra cups together broke, setting her ample breasts free, she mewled into Dia’s lips, pushing her chest forward and pressing tit against tit. 

Dia groaned, her chest completely smothered by Hanamaru’s plush, while she returned in kind as Dia’s small, perky nipples ravished her chest. By the time that Dia pulled back for the sake of air, Hanamaru’s swollen, kiss-stained lips were like the rest of her body, quivering.

Hanamaru didn’t know if she should have been overjoyed to have been kissed, or to wish to keep going since Dia kissed her like  _ that _ ; passionate and controlling, completely against her teasingly submissive nature. Either way, she knew that Dia was going to keep kissing her until she was satisfied, until all that teasing from the reception onward was, in her eyes, mitigated.

She didn’t expect Dia’s kisses to leave her mouth.

That earthy flavor that Dia grew used to, the one she adored from the multiple kisses from before and the one she grew addicted to that night, lingered far beyond Hanamaru’s lips, lingering with a slightly salty aftertaste as she kissed down her sweat-dotted neck. Freed from her wife’s tongue acting like a gag, Hanamaru moaned into the room, not caring if the neighbors could hear her. To her, it only mattered if Dia was able to hear it, and she wished that her noises fueled her to keep going. Dia’s lips were like soft prods with a torch, immediately heating up whatever they came into contact with, and silently Hanamaru wished for their warmth to envelop her completely.

She wanted to feel vulnerable.

Dia knew she wanted to feel vulnerable, smothering her neck with a flurry of kisses no harder than the touch of a butterfly’s wing. Each moan confirmed that her kisses were like adding more kindling to the flame underneath her legs, a flame which she knew was growing hotter as her belly approached her thighs.

As much as the prize between her legs enticed Dia, there was nothing quite like the sight of the prizes dangling in front of her face, accented by Hanamaru demurely sandwiching them with her forearms: her breasts--enviable to even Kanan’s. Nipples pointed at her lips, it would have been disservicable, a mockery even, for her not to take what was in front of her. Parting her lips, and giving them one final lick for good measure, she attached herself to a breast and suckled, making sure to dig her fingers into the unsuckled breast.

“Zura!”

Hanamaru was from a Buddhist temple and sang in a choir, radiating pure innocent which made her stances so shocking once she married; naturally, she was inexperienced, and she was also sensitive. The nub between her lips felt like a fleshy diamond, her tongue subtly prodding at it to create a masterful melody of moans. Her gropes to her other breast only accented the noises, where the correct squeezes and tweaks loudened and softened her noises, and she played her like a fleshy theremin. 

And the more that she played, the more she was rewarded by a sticky warmth pressing up against her belly, one which invisibly smeared across her body as the one thing covering her, a pair of shot panties, were being rubbed out and oversaturated. Dia could feel Hanamaru’s clit buzzing against her navel with each rub of her hips through the garment; it was a protective barrier for only the eyes.

Dia wasn’t focused on the panties which were rubbing against her--for certain, if she pulled away, she would have expected Hanamaru to make a quip about  _ kissing the bride _ again while she pulled it off with the smoothness that Dia only could expect from Mari. Instead, she looked up, towards that quivering face, that bitten lower lip, and the dark, clouded eyes which were a far cry from the innocence that she once believed was part of Hanamaru.

“Dia-chan…”

In between moans, Hanamaru could only huff. The shifts and thrusts weren’t able to give anything other than the illusion of helplessness; her moans, however, were what fueled Dia. It didn’t matter that she was babbling a string of commands that Dia couldn’t understand; she only processed it as to keep going, to do something with the lustily-delirious state that she was in. The noises grew in intensity as Dia left her last marks on her breasts, engulfing as much as she could between her lips and between her fingers, and slowly waned as she felt those sensations fall to nothing but cool air grazing a saliva-coated nipple.

Before Hanamaru could complain about how unfairly teased she was, Dia’s fingers hooked into her underwear, slowly rolling them off her hips and down to her garters. It didn’t matter if her panties were off of her body, but rather if her panties were away from her pussy, the scent of which pervaded Dia’s nose and fogged her mind. Looking down, the sight of a swollen, slick clit and puffy pink lips filled her view, pulsing eagerly and waiting for her to do  _ anything; _ her baldness further reflected her readiness. Kissing back up to Hanamaru’s mouth, Dia slipped a finger into those wanting folds, swallowing whatever noises came from her lover’s mouth.

The innocent image that Hanamaru kept was further shattered as Dia plunged her finger as deeply as she could into her, feeling her knuckles rubbing against her lower lips as she bottomed out; there was not a moment where she was told to stop or to slow down, nor did her walls squeeze to the point of beyond discomfort. It might have been the first time Dia slipped a finger inside of her, but it definitely wasn’t the first time Hanamaru had. A second finger slipped in with no further problem, but her walls squeezed dangerously tight as she pushed in, trying to bottom out.

“Hnn…”

Like how her whimpers fueled her before, Dia was charged by the sounds of Hanamaru whining and the feeling of her walls squeezing her fingers. Each whimper, each sound of her fingers sloshing her cunt, every squeak of the bed frame underneath them: Dia savored each moment and wanted more.

Beadlets of sweat ran down Hanamaru’s body as Dia started pumping her fingers into her, her hips bucking at the sweet, burning sensation. Fingers flawlessly gliding along her velvety walls, she reached out with her teeth, grasping any bit of lip she could; Dia huffed at the feeling of Hanamaru digging her teeth into her bottom lip, and challenged the motion by speeding up her fingering  _ just _ a bit more. In her clouded view, the sight of Dia acting so primal, so lewdly, and so forcefully was what she wanted, a goal met with flying colors and leaving her practically begging for more, if she could even speak.

And as helpless as she looked, Hanamaru was free to do whatever she pleased; the only thing stopping her from grabbing onto Dia was the grip she held onto the bed sheets behind her, her knuckles white from grip strength. It took every ounce of effort to let go of the bed, but once she did, she reached down and grasped onto Dia’s hip, immediately crumpling into a fist against her pants. She didn’t want Dia to stop, but at the same time, she wanted to make sure that she, too, could have a moment to enjoy what her hands could do. Weak pulls to Dia’s pants were accompanied by small grunts as she desperately attempted to yank the garment off, to no avail.

“Hmm?” Dia pulled away from Hanamaru’s lips with a hum, slowing her fingers to a near-stop. Hanamaru whined--being that close to her peak with Dia slowing down, and worse, pulling out, was akin to torture--but that torture was relieved when she heard the zip of pants and her grip able to move about. Weakly, Hanamaru pushed what she could of Dia’s pants down, just enough to reveal more of her panties, as black and lacey as she could find as a compliment to her bra.

As much as she wished she could dig her fingers into Dia’s folds, Dia was faster than she, and before she could run her fingers up her thigh, her folds were filled with fingers. Dia was back at the speed she was at before, wrangling her walls with a sloshy, passionate fervor. Lips against lips, dreamy sighs, libidinous cries, and heated breaths were passed from one to another. Hanamaru bucked her hips, trying her best to milk every bit of pleasure from Dia’s teasing fingers as she could.

“Dia-chan!” Her words were but slurs as Dia kept thrusting inside of her, feeling the waves of pleasure about to release from her folds; she didn’t need Hanamaru telling her to know that she was cumming. Dia didn’t care if her wrist was starting to hurt from the repetitive motions; what was more important was helping Hanamaru ride out her orgasm, one which slowly inched further in spite of how deftly she was fingering her.

Once the wave of orgasm crashed, it crashed hard; Dia’s fingers were stuck in Hanamaru’s virginal vice, with her struggling only making her squeezes tighter around her. Hanamaru’s moans were now one guttural sound, something she could only make to be her name shamelessly slurred into a neutral syllable. Hanamaru was in bliss, a bliss which leaked out in a thick white fluid as Dia was finally able to pull her fingers away. In her post-ecstasy, Hanamaru looked almost asleep, as if all the energy was taken out of her from that sole orgasm.

_ As enthusiastic as Hanamaru-san was, she doesn’t seem like she can take much… _

Honestly, the sight of Hanamaru sleeping there both made her happy and sad. It was such a tranquil sight, nevermind the scattering of garments and buttons that rested against her belly, gently rising and falling with her breathing. The glow of sweat combined with the white lace garments around her body gave the illusion of an angel, something which Dia felt fit her too well, even in spite of her naughty episode.

Pulling her pants off her ankles, she crawled a bit closer to her, taking in the soft huffs of her breathing. As cute as she looked up close, it saddened her slightly that she didn’t take the view of her from behind, with her arms wrapped around her. Or better yet, she didn’t have a mutual embrace, with Hanamaru’s arms lazily above her head. Maybe when they both were asleep, they’d end up like that, as two not-so-innocent birds in their newly-made nest.

And, as not to disturb Hanamaru, Dia slowly plucked the buttons from off of her, making sure not to touch the generous flesh that begged to be groped even this late into the night. With a few adjustments to her clothes--mainly slipping her panties back on--Dia finished making Hanamaru look decent, with only the hotel lights being an issue for her own sleep.

Thus, Dia stood up and walked towards the light switches, stretching on the way there, as she prepared for a good night’s sleep with her-- 

“Where do you think you’re going, Dia-chan?”

Dia froze, her heart skipping a beat. She could have sworn that Hanamaru was sound asleep, but the moment she turned around, there she was: standing upright, eyes opened, with her hands dutily palming her breasts and fondling them licentiously. Amateur sways of the hips led her sashay towards her, and never did her gaze break contact with Dia’s; however, Dia was trying her best to look away from her, trying to stay calm and professional.

“Isn’t it my turn to kiss the bride, zura?”

“I, uh…”

Before Dia could make a response, Hanamaru’s hands were on her shoulders, dutifully tugging her shirt and bra off her arms and letting them fall to the floor. She giggled as she watched Dia try to hide her lackluster chest, but in defending herself up there, she left herself completely unguarded down there. Hanamaru swooped down so that she was face-level with Dia’s panties and inhaled, taking in her scent.

“Dia-chan smells so good, zura~”

“Hanamaru-san, what are you-- _ gahhhh _ …”

Nuzzling her face into Dia’s panties was enough to neuter her speech for a second, and a kiss to the wet spot on her undergarments left her moaning. Dia wanted to say something, but she knew that whatever she had to say would take away from this: the sight of Hanamaru nuzzling her down there, with her face between her legs, ready to eat her out.

The sight was shameless as all hell, but it was also adorable in its own unique way.

“I want to kiss the bride, zura!” Hanamaru whined, peeling away at Dia’s panties.

Dia wanted to complain, but the feeling of a cold metal band running down her leg in tandem with her panties was so soothing; who cared if Hanamaru was sleeping two seconds ago? Who cared if she needed sleep, either?

"But I'm not--"

“Dia-chan, relax; it’s not shameless if I’m your wife…”

What was more shameless, in Dia’s opinion, was that she didn’t expect Hanamaru to want to go this far; the bush of black that was between their gazes, sitting pretty on top of Dia’s pussy, was her issue. She didn’t think to prepare like Hanamaru did.

“And besides, your hair is so cute down here, zura…”

The moment of relief from Hanamaru’s comment was immediately discarded for the wave of sparks that ran through Dia’s body as she felt something warm and wet gliding up her folds. She shuddered as Hanamaru began, in her own words, kissing the bride.

As inexperienced as Hanamaru was, Dia was surprised at how good her tongue felt against her folds. As it danced and swirled around, she couldn’t help but roll her hips against it, trying to get a few more sparks of pleasure to wrack through her body. Biting her lower lip, she tried to stifle all of the moans which wanted to leak out, almost afraid that she would wake up the people next door.

“H-Hanamaru-san…” Dia mumbled, only to be greeted by a tug at her crotch hair.

“I want to hear you moaning.”

Dia was taken aback by how blunt her statement was; those were words she expected Mari to tell Kanan, and even then it would most likely be in a joking manner. She didn’t expect someone as innocent-looking as Hanamaru, whom she got to know well because of innocent Azalea, to be capable of such language. It was shameless, but it was also, in a way, kind of hot.

And Dia choked out a moan, which Hanamaru replied to with a kiss to her clit. Her legs quivered, and she grasped her hair as the only way she could stay upright. She pulled her upward, pressing her further into her folds, trying to make sure that she knew exactly where to mess with her, to make her as wet as possible. Her tongue felt to good not to savor at every moment she gave, and she was going to moan every second of the way, giving Hanamaru what she wanted most. 

To hell if their neighbors complained; it was their wedding night, and it was their fault for booking next to them.

“Ahh! Hanamaru-san! Right there!”

Dia’s hips bucked as Hanamaru’s tongue darted around, prodding at different places between her folds and gauging the sounds accordingly. Her body burned with pleasure, her entire body pulsing at the rate of her ever-quickening heartbeat. Her moans echoed throughout the room without a care, and she was growing more desperate for pleasure. One of her hands snaked upward, grasping onto her breast and tweaking her nipple, savoring the jolts running through her with every twist she gave herself. The pleasure was aggregating quickly, and she knew that Hanamaru was close to unraveling the knot in her stomach, the one she started by sitting in that pose requesting a kiss.

Hanamaru was reveling in how much Dia was enjoying herself, her tongue straining slightly to make sure she was getting every cranny that Dia loved; the only place where she hadn’t delved into was her vaginal entrance, pulsing and squeezing. It was as if she was being dared to push as far as she could inside of her, a challenge she coyly accepted as she pressed her lips to her hole and started sucking, not caring about how harsh Dia’s hip rolls or her pulse was becoming. What was more important to her was that she knew that Dia was feeling good, and that she was about to feel the same way as she did a few minutes ago.

And as she pushed her tongue into that squeezing entrance, Hanamaru got what she wished for, with Dia spraying her cum all across her face. Tongue pushed out, she was surprised at the wave of cum that immediately followed, sprayed by some and, once she figured out what was going on, swallowing the rest. Being a big eater was only more at advantageous at eating competitions.

By the time that Hanamaru was done indulging herself, Dia was spent, leaning against the nearest wall as a way of supporting herself. If Hanamaru were any stronger, she would have carried Dia to the bed and placed her down, but she knew she’d strain herself if she did that, especially after being drained from an orgasm of her own. She stood up, waiting for Dia to recover just enough so that she could help her walk to the bed. As she waited, Dia looked at her, her gaze dark, but not threatening.

“H-Hanamaru-san…”

“Yes, Dia-chan?” Maybe if she sounded innocent, she wouldn’t have to deal with Dia being so frustrated at her.

Dia took a step forward, almost slipping as she did so. Hanamaru ducked under and slipped her shoulder underneath one of her arms, supporting her as she stood up. She struggled a bit at first, but slowly, she grew used to supporting Dia’s weight.

“Take steps with me, zura. We’ll get you to bed.”

And with every step that Hanamaru made, Dia followed, carrying her towards the bed. It was a slightly arduous procedure, but by the end of it, Dia and Hanamaru both collapsed into the bed, with Hanamaru nuzzling into Dia’s collar. Dia wanted to scoff; she wanted to be nuzzling into Hanamaru’s bust, but with their size difference, it felt just as right having her press up like this.

“What about--”

Whatever Dia was worried about, Hanamaru shushed her with a kiss. “I’ll get it all done when we wake up, zura. Just enjoy what we have right now.” Her next words came instinctively, surprisingly as three distinct syllables. “I love you.”

Dia froze and heated up a bit, the pink from embarrassment not exactly hidden considering that the lights were still on.

“Hold on a second, Hanamaru-san.”

Dia picked herself up and stumbled towards the lights, each step giving Hanamaru a bit of worry that she’d fall. Whether she slipped on something or she made a slight misstep and she’d tumble, it didn’t matter. However, as Dia reached the lights and turned them off, Hanamaru’s fears were calmed, and as she felt her arms wrapping around her again, she felt comfortable.

“There.” Dia huffed before giving Hanamaru a kiss. “I want to make sure my little angel gets some sleep.”

“You sound so cute when you say that, zura.”

And, taking a page from Hanamaru’s book, Dia shut her up with a kiss.

“Goodnight, Hanamaru-san.”

“Goodnight, Dia-chan.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't been able to write for a month because of work and AX, but now that I'm done with all of that, I'm back on the writing grind, and honestly I'm glad to be back.


End file.
